


Divine Observations

by spoke



Category: Something Dark and Holy Series - Emily A. Duncan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoke/pseuds/spoke
Summary: A look at the pantheon, and specifically Marzenya's, take on Nadya.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Divine Observations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Assimbya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assimbya/gifts).



> I hope your holidays are joyous and safe, recip!

_Kill her now and there will simply be another._

_Kill this one, now, and they will surely try again._

They hovered, watching as the mother struggled, and Zbyhneuska sighed. Her power moved over the woman, easing the pain and longing they could all sense as well. She cold not stay if any of this was to happen, and her choice tipped the balance among the others.

_If all of us were to speak to her, watch and guard and guide her as best we can..._

_...that influence might be enough, yes. Easier, certainly. She cannot be left unguarded and who would we trust to watch her alone?_

* * *

She learned early all the work of the devout, and took to it so readily some questioned her ease. But she had been born on the steps of the monastery, after all, to a woman who climbed those seven thousand steps because she knew her daughter to be touched by the gods. Surely it was only natural to be so devoted, then. And if there were whispers otherwise, questions and fears, that was for others to concern themselves with.

Not her. She was never to be allowed to hear, and those among them who had influence over communication made certain of it. 

But the questions were there, and how could they not be, when from the moment she was old enough to speak she was speaking to all of them. This had never happened, had never been _allowed_ to happen. Surely no mortal could stand the touch of more than one god, could bear to hear more than one divine voice.

 _Yet_. Bozidarka lets her see what she should not be able to, so that others can know she has. Vesceslav cast shields, and taught her what he could of war as it was waged on the mortal realm. Horz... well. The less said of his dramatics the better.

If she asked to be allowed to heal, they gave her that power. Light falling from her lips, her body moving with a speed no mortal’s could, so that it was without question to the faithful that this girl was a cleric.

Whispers of heretics and apocrypha drifted through the halls like the snow that covered the mountains, in spite of all their work. There was so _little_ they could do while following the rules. Yet Nadezdha moved through it as though unaware, and maybe, just _maybe_ she was. She was, after all, so like her patron goddess in her mortal way.

There was so much anger in her, so much rage below the surface of the patient and eager cleric. The cold of a blizzard, the potential to be as ruthless a storm as Marzenya could desire, and _still_ Peloyin held back. They watched as the child moved through her days, steadily growing and steadily becoming more devout, more willing to listen and obey. Yet he cautioned her, and counseled them all, that she was never to be fully trusted. Out of all of them, Vaclav never did, and the others watched always with a measure of that caution Peloyin desired. 

Marzenya thought them all fools for it. Yes, there was that touch of fire in the heart of the child’s snow, a little mortal warmth in the winter her patron goddess so carefully cultivated in her. But the cold was so much more, so much deeper with the water below freezing it. There was no mistaking the darkness, the danger of her, and Marzenya relished the thought of the day she would be released into the world.

Unleashed upon Tranavia so that they could finally strike the heretics down, and end whatever little game was being played there in the silence, behind the cursed veil. 

She learned so quickly, as quickly as she could, eager to be out in the world at far too young an age. It was the part of her most dangerous to her patron’s plans, the hunger for glory and adventure and knowledge, the desire to understand. She was always reading, always so curious, that it became necessary to have the church’s leader there move any book that might contain knowledge Nadya was not meant to have. Apocrypha were not to be allowed near the cleric, and the definition thereof expanded in ways she was certain the mortals didn’t quite understand. 

It was easier after Veceslav’s devotee arrived. Konstantin and his little brother provided some measure of an anchor, which Marzenya grudgingly admitted had helped. Konstantin was mortal, after all, as purely human as she surely was, and if he saw no need to question then why should she?

Except the questions slept, in the back of her mind. Even Marzenya could feel them. Still, and still and still, if she never ventured outside of her circle then all would be well. If she never spoke to those who could answer questions, or ask any of their own...

It was the first shivering fracture of Marzenya’s surety, to feel her speaking to the Vulture. Heretic, abomination, _filth_ , and yet the thing they had most in common was the one thing her Nadya should never have indulged. _Curiosity_.

Curiosity and desperation combined, and in one disastrous moment the first step off her path was taken, towards knowledge she was not meant to have and blood being spilled in a way that was not hers to use.

* * * 

_I warned you, did I not?_ He almost sang, his voice so much closer to a song than most of them. It was irritating at times, how like Velyos he sounded.

Not that she would tell him so. There were always better battles to fight than that. _She will not listen to him. She will use him as long as she needs to, and I will allow it, but she is **mine** in the end. _

_I have no doubt of that, dear. But you do have a tendency to break your toys once you’re through with them._

A pause, and she could sense him moving closer, the swirling threat of a storm entirely different from her winter wrath. As if speaking into a mortal’s ear, he hissed. _Do make sure you break this one properly. Nothing might survive this being done by halves._


End file.
